


Happy Halloween Hunt

by Thoronris



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-01-22 11:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12480792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thoronris/pseuds/Thoronris
Summary: When Hermione utters her disgust about the traditional fox hunt, Lucius Malfoy decides to turn it into a witch hunt instead. Inviting Antonin Dolohov, Rabastan Lestrange and Thorfinn Rowle over to Malfoy Manor, an interesting game of Hide and Seek ensues. / Written for the DEE Halloween Prompt 23





	1. Chapter 1

“That’s barbaric!”

The blond man sitting next to her just raised an eyebrow in reply. Hermione huffed in annoyance: “It’s an awful tradition. Lots of men on horses and their dogs chasing one single fox? It’s already bad as a muggle tradition, but for wizards? Why do you even bother with a fox hunt anyway?”

Lucius Malfoy smiled at her: “It’s a sport, my love. It has been a tradition for centuries now, a tradition I intend to honour. We don’t even use magic, shouldn’t that make you happy?”

Shaking her head, Hermione jumped from her armchair and began to run circles in front of the fire place: “No magic? Really? What about the charmed crossbows you use that can never miss if you aim somewhere in the right direction?”

Lucius just shrugged: “Well, those are charmed before the event. During the event, we don’t use magic. I thought you would be happy to know we’re doing something so muggle.”

“You should have known better!” Hermione shouted: “I don’t like it at all. If you want to spend Halloween with me, you’ll not do it.”

At times like these, Hermione wondered how she could have ever befriended Lucius Malfoy. She had felt pity when his wife left him after the war, though she couldn’t actually blame her for it. She never had a real choice in the whole Death Eater matter, it had always been her husband that had driven the family further down the road. But perhaps, if Narcissa had stayed, she would have witnessed the slow changes in her husband, changes for the better. Hermione herself had visited him often during his one year stay in Azkaban, seeing first hand that Lucius was full of honest remorse about his wrong doings. Not all Death Eaters were like that, but him, Dolohov, Rowle, even the insufferable Rabastan Lestrange had shown signs of remorse. Now, five years after the Battle of Hogwarts, they all were released from Azkaban, though not yet fully respected members of the magical society.

She enjoyed spending time with Lucius, even more so when his son Draco wasn’t present. Even though Draco never was as convinced of Voldemort’s leadership as his father, their history during Hogwarts wasn’t easily overcome. He tried to be polite, as did she, but their problems had deeply personal roots. It wasn’t easy.

“Look,” she finally said, “I want to spend Halloween with you. I think it could be fun to dress up and do something a little different. But I’ll not be part of any fox hunt. I have something called compassion.”

When she turned to gaze directly at Lucius, she detected the hint of a dangerous grin. He plotting something, that much was obvious. Something evil. Or perhaps naughty. Nervously she licked her lips: “What?”

With glinting eyes he asked: “If I promise that we’ll not hunt any foxes, would you be up for hunting in general?”

Suspicion rose in Hermione: “Depends on what else you’ll hunt.”

He held out a hand to her and after she took it, he pulled her into his lap: “You talked about dressing up. Why not make it a little bit more fun and dress you up as a sexy fox?”

Hermione’s eyes grew big: “What are you talking about?”

He was outright smirking at her now, his eyes betraying the mischief: “Would you be up for a little game of Hide and Seek?”

She struggled to think straight. The way his long finger caressed her cheek, while his other hand lay innocently on her thigh didn’t help her brain. Though they’d never slept with each other, Hermione was only too aware that Lucius wouldn’t mind to. She herself wouldn’t mind to, either. She gulped anxiously: “Hide and Seek? I hide, you seek?”

His grin turned even more wicked: “Well, it wouldn’t be a real fox hunt if there was only one hunter now, would it?”

Hermione froze in shock: “Several hunters? You want me to dress up in some naughty costume, being chased around by who knows how many men? Are you out of your mind?”

Lucius pulled her to his chest and put both arms around her in a warm embrace: “You know I’d never put you in danger, Hermione. Also, I don’t like sharing. But I do like competition. If I promise you that there’ll be only a few men and that they’re all nice guys, would you still object? Think about it. A couple of men trying desperately to find you, chasing you, the only female present. Is that such a bad idea?”

When he put it like that, Hermione had a hard time to object. Men never chased her. She wasn’t ugly, but she knew she was not the type of girl you would invite for a drink and then pull on your lap. No man had ever tried to seduce her in that way. Not that she was an unexperienced virgin, but as of yet, most men had shied away from pursuing her. Even Lucius Malfoy, who was at least mildly interested in her, had never made a move. She had spent some interesting months after the war together with Ron, experimenting in bed, sharing many firsts with him, but in the end they both agreed that they worked better as just friends. Visiting Krum had proven to be the best idea she ever had, only he never meant to go steady. As good as their sex was, he wanted to be free, play Quidditch and travel the world.

Back home, Hermione realised that most men didn’t even think of her as a sexual being. When she went out with Ginny for drinks, some men approached her red haired friend with clear intent, but as Ginny was happy with Harry, she turned all of them down. No one ever tried their luck with herself. Regardless of the effort she put into looking sexy and open, men just stayed away.

Would the men Lucius wanted to invite be the same? Or would the thrill of the hunt and the singular circumstances of Halloween, or Samhain, as some of the more traditional wizards still called it, change their minds? Perhaps Lucius would finally try something?

“Would you tell me who you’re thinking about?”

Lucius shook his head: “No. That’s part of the fun. But I promise you, you know all of them and I know you like them. Trust me.”

Hermione buried her face in his chest. She could feel anxiety and curiosity battle on the inside. She trusted Lucius, even though she knew he could play mean tricks on her. Just thinking of the possibility that perhaps some man she liked found her in a dark corner somewhere in this huge mansion, cornering her like prey, making her beg for release – Hermione had to stop herself from pressing a heated kiss on Lucius’ lips just then. Her dirty mind came up with one naughty scenario after the other. Who was she kidding? His proposition was more than appealing.

“Ok,” she finally whispered, her voice sounding husky even to her own ears, “perhaps I like your idea. Let’s be kids again, dress up and play Hide and Seek.”

Lucius put his fingers under her chin and forced her to look directly into his eyes: “This has nothing to do with a kid’s game, Hermione. It’s Samhain, after all. If you’re not aware of what that means, we shouldn’t be playing this game.”

Again she licked her lips: “I am aware, Lucius. I am very aware. Let’s play.”

Heat flashed in his eyes when his gaze dropped to her lips, but he didn’t act on it. He simply pressed his lips on her forehead before releasing her from his embrace. She sat up, but didn’t leave his lap. Inspecting her fingernails, she asked: “You will participate as hunter, too, right?”

A deep chuckle was her answer: “You sure are eager to get your fingers on me, my love. Yes, I will of course participate, too.”

She wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to use a game like Hide and Seek to seduce her. That he could just ask her to come to bed with him. That she was only too willing to … but no, she didn’t dare. Even if he wanted to hunt her, she still couldn’t be sure he actually wanted to sleep with her. She would not make a fool out of herself by opening up in that way. She would die of embarrassment if Lucius Malfoy rejected her sexual approaches. Instead, she’d patiently wait and see what the night of Samhain brought for her.

* * *

 

“She agreed to this?”

Rabastan Lestrange chuckled when he noticed the shocked tone in Antonin’s voice. He was surprised by Hermione’s willingness, too, but then again, he had always suspected the little witch was more than she looked like on the surface.

The smirk on Lucius’ face told him that the blond man thought the same: “Why wouldn’t she, Dolohov?”

Antonin shrugged: “I just didn’t think she’d like me chasing her around.”

“She doesn’t know you’re here,” Lucius explained, “in fact, I didn’t tell her about any of you. I just promised that she knew and liked you.”

Antonin turned red upon hearing that: “She doesn’t know I’m here? Malfoy, you can’t be serious.”

Rabastan couldn’t hold his annoyance at his friend’s behaviour back any longer: “What’s your problem, Antonin? As far as I can remember, you have talked to her before and it was never hostile.”

Antonin’s eyes were dark when he coolly replied: “You don’t remember, do you? None of you remember. Perhaps you just choose not to remember. I don’t care whichever it is, because I do remember very clearly. I cursed her. During that bloody fight in the ministry, I cursed her. You know, my special little curse, invented by my family, known to no one but us. I hit her right in the chest with it.”

“You didn’t,” came the hard voice of Thorfinn Rowle from behind them. The giant man had watched silently at their dispute, but he obviously had something to say now: “If you did, she would be dead.”

Antonin shook his head: “She silenced me before, so it was not powerful enough. Still. Severus told me that he had to combine several potions for the longest time in order to bring back her health. Yes, we speak, but it’s always awkward.”

Usually, Rabastan had a snarky remark for every situation, but he found himself at a loss for words. That was unexpected. He hadn’t known that Hermione had actually been hit by the Dolohov curse. Every one of them at one point had fought her, but it was never actually a battle to the death. He had not thought that one of their group once had actually tried to kill the witch.

“I indeed was not aware of that fact,” Lucius mused, “otherwise I would have asked her.”

“I should go,” Antonin said, “you all can have fun tonight, but I really shouldn’t be here.”

“No!” Rabastan immediately intercepted: “I don’t think you have to go. Have you ever told her you’re sorry?”

If looks could kill, the Russian wizard would have murdered him on the spot: “I didn’t. What is there to say? Sorry I tried to kill you? I can’t even claim that I didn’t mean it, because I did. I really wanted to kill her back then. She was just another nasty little mudblood …”

“Watch it,” Thorfinn cut him off, “we’re beyond using such language, Dolohov, and you should really try and leave it, too.”

Antonin stared at him: “I just wanted to emphasize my thoughts from back then. She was a hindrance for our master, that’s all I saw in her. I didn’t know she was so intelligent, nor that she would turn out to be so … compassionate.”

Lucius looked more annoyed by the minute. Obviously he didn’t like that the happy occasion turned moody all of a sudden. Picking up the thread he had started before, Rabastan suggested: “Why don’t you use this to show her you’re sorry? It’s Samhain, anything can happen between a witch and a wizard.”

Now it was Rowle, who gave him a murderous glare: “You’re not actually suggesting Antonin should fuck her to say sorry, are you?”

“Come on now, gentlemen,” Lucius shut down any fight that could arise from the argument, “we’re all intelligent people, we’ll find a way to make this work. I would really hate to see you excluded from this year’s fox hunt, Antonin, so let’s take a moment and think.”

* * *

 

Antonin could not believe he had let Lucius, Thorfinn and Rabastan talk him into this. He was uncomfortable around the Granger girl, even though she had always been polite whenever they had talked. If he had known before that Malfoys traditional fox hunt had been turned into a witch hunt, he would have declined the invitation. But here he was, a glass of whisky in one hand, waiting for the witch to appear before them.

They had all agreed that they would at least greet Hermione, so she got a chance after all to object. Why Lucius wanted to keep the identity of the hunters a secret in the first place was still a mystery to him. He felt stupid, standing in the entrance hall of the manor, looking up the grand stairs, waiting for a girl to appear. But the other three men did the same, so he tried to look disinterested.

The grandfather clock chimed eight. When the last gong died away, Hermione Granger stepped out of the shadows of the upper hallway. Antonin’s mouth fell open, his hand grabbed his whisky glass harder.

Whoever was responsible for that outfit.

She wore a very short skirt in the colour of fox fur, her top was the same, reaching not even down to her belly button. Her feet and legs were clad in knee-high furry looking boots. Worst of all were the fox ears in her hair. Antonin gulped. She looked definitely way too cute and innocent for the amount – or lack thereof – of clothing she wore.

Hermione seemed to be only too aware how her dress looked, because when she descended the stairs, she didn’t look at any of the men while a pointed red was visible on her cheeks.

“You look delicious,” Lucius said after Hermione had come to stand before him

She huffed at him: “Whatever this is supposed to be? I could as well wear nothing.”

Rabastan just laughed at that: “I wouldn’t mind, darling, you’re welcome to undress at any point.”

As if she only now registered who else was present, Hermione’s eyes went big: “Oh. Good evening, I guess? I didn’t know …”

Her eyes travelled along the four of them, coming to a stop when she spotted him. Antonin tried to not let his nervousness shine through. He was a grown wizard, for Merlin’s sake, and he had been a Death Eater forever now. He should not feel this anxious just because he didn’t know how one witch would take his presence.

“Dolohov,” Hermione murmured, “how … unexpected.”

Glancing at his friends, he stepped forward, quietly saying: “I can go, if you want that, Granger. I would totally understand, if you …”

“No,” she interrupted him just as quietly, “no, it’s okay. Just … try not to hex me, okay?”

He cringed at her words, not put at ease at all. He really should go, but at the same time he knew he didn’t want to. Seeing the once young, common girl shine with such beauty, looking at him confidently, told him that he needed to put the past behind himself at last.

“Actually,” Thorfinn now chimed in, “we’re not allowed to use our wands. We’ll leave them here. Otherwise this hunt would be over too quickly.”

“No wands?”

Lucius nodded: “Yes, no wands. For you neither, my love. I did tell you that tonight we’d do it the muggle way, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” an obviously confused Hermione agreed, “I just didn’t think you’d actually mean it.”

“Why, because we once were big bad Death Eaters?” Rabastan scolded her with a mock glare.

Again, Antonin felt the urge to cringe. Was he the only one that had a hard time forgetting that they indeed once were known for hunting Muggles and muggleborn witches and wizards?

“Well, yes. It’s just hard to wrap my head around it all,” Hermione told them, still looking not too convinced.

“I’d say may the best man win,” Thorfinn said with a low chuckle, “with emphasis on man, not wizard.”

A lovely red spread across Hermione’s whole face when the full meaning of Rowle’s words hit her. She didn’t look disgusted, though, Antonin observed, but rather intrigued. That was definitely unexpected. So she actually understood what Samhain and this hunt would be about? She was actually up for it?

“Be a good girl now, Hermione, and hand over your wand. I’ll assure you, we all will go without ours as well,” Lucius told her, putting forth his hand to demand her wand.

Without further hesitation, the witch did as she was told. Lucius explained the rules once again – she was allowed to fight if captured, no man was to help her when another already caught her, even if captured she had no obligation to do anything her captor demanded except admit defeat – then Hermione turned and ran back upstairs. They would wait for five minutes before starting their hunt.

Antonin looked at the other three men. Thorfinn looked confident, Rabastan smug as always, and Lucius … Lucius interestingly looked as if he had already won. He wondered whether that was a worrying sign, but decided to ignore it for now. If he himself was lucky enough to catch Hermione before anyone else, he would apologize at last. He would tell her that even though back then he truly meant to kill her, he had no such intentions today and would never have them again. He wanted the elephant in the room go away so he finally could enjoy her warmth and intelligence just as all the others could. He had no intention of fucking her, as Rowle had put it so eloquently.

None at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione tried to calm her breath. She had run all the way across the manor to reach the library as quickly as possible. During the time she took to dress up in whatever costume this was supposed to be, she had decided the library was the ideal hiding spot. Not only did she love books, but it also had only one entrance, many little nooks to hide it and, which was the best thing about it, a gallery stretching around the whole room. If she went up the stairs and then sat down on the floor, she should be able to see anyone coming inside. As there were two different stairs leading up, she would always have enough time to escape if someone actually looked for her up here. The moon shone through a window next to her, but not quite bright enough for her to be able to read.

When her heart finally calmed down and her breath normalised, Hermione started to think. What did she actually want tonight? Lucius had been honest when he told her she would like the men he invited. Antonin Dolohov had been a bit of a surprise, but then again he was one of the closer friends of Malfoy. She didn’t actually fear the man any longer, but there was something in his behaviour that made her nervous. He always seemed to hold back with her. As if he was hiding something. 

Thorfinn on the other hand had been a delightful surprise. She got to know him during one of her visits to Lucius in Azkaban. He had made fun of her, but it was good natured. With his huge body that seemed to consist only of muscle, his wide grin that sometimes reminded her of Ron, and with his ability to put her at ease she had quickly come to like him. Just like Draco, Thorfinn seemed to have joined the Death Eaters without actually realising what he was getting himself into. Only when he and Antonin Dolohov had tried to capture her in that random restaurant she, Harry, and Ron had escaped to after the wedding, he got to experience war first hand. She herself had stunned him and Harry told her that afterwards Voldemort had forced Draco to torture him for the mistake. Hermione was rather sure that at that point, Thorfinn began to loathe being a Death Eater.

There was something about Rowle, though. Perhaps it was because he reminded her of the Norse god Thor, not just because of the similar name, but because he was as tall and well-built and blond. Whatever it was, she felt a certain attraction to him. Sexual attraction. Perhaps it was because she was rather small and he made her feel even smaller? She couldn’t find a rational answer, but she felt it. Whenever they met, she felt the pull towards him. If he found her tonight, she would let him do whatever he wanted. Just thinking about getting cornered by him, captured in his big, strong arms, pinned against a book shelf or down on a table … Hermione shivered in anticipation.

Then there was Rabastan Lestrange, the brother of Rodolphus, who for some reason or another was married to Bellatrix Lestrange. From what Hermione heard, Rabastan had spent many years in Azkaban. He was fifteen years older, but still a handsome young man that somehow always reminded her of a trickster or rogue. His lean figure, his dishevelled looks, the way he took nothing and nobody serious never failed to put a smile on her face. He had a loose mouth, which she had often enough been on the receiving end of. He loved to make her blush with his naughty comments and titillating smiles. Sometimes Hermione wondered whether he was all talk, no action. Perhaps tonight she would finally find out whether the promise his smiles held would ever be fulfilled.

“I can see you up there, Granger!”

Hermione stopped dead. There went her plan, right out the window. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she had not watched the door as closely as she should have. Standing, she looked down the gallery to the entrance. Hidden in the shadows, she could make out the figure of a rather tall man. She knew who it was just from his voice, though: “Why alert me to your presence, Dolohov? You could have sneaked up on me, it seems.”

He stepped forward into the moonlight: “I felt uncomfortable sneaking up on you.”

Hermione made a step forward, too, so she could lean on the balustrade: “Why is that?”

Dolohov shrugged in obvious annoyance: “Do you really have to ask that?”

Suddenly she wondered whether his attempt at her life had made a bigger impression on him than on herself. Lowering her voice, she asked solemnly: “Do you regret what happened back at the ministry?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, Dolohov went slowly up the stairs, giving her time to escape, if she chose to. When he reached the top, he stilled, not stepping any nearer. His eyes shimmered in the moonlight: “I hate the man I was back then. I wanted to kill a child, Hermione. I would have done anything the Dark Lord ordered us to do. Anything. If that meant cursing a child, I’d do it. I did.”

Hermione felt the sudden urge to hug him, but as they were still playing the game, she forced herself to remain where she was. Even though he was larger than her, she would be able to outrun him if given a head start. She needed to stay alert. Still, she smiled at him: “I don’t hold it against you, Antonin. It was war. We fought on different sides. I did horrible things, too, I assure you.”

He shook his head in disbelief: “You actually want me to believe that, girly? You doing something horrible?”

A mean smirk appeared on her face. She had never felt it would be right to boast about her darker acts, but now, at this very moment, she couldn’t help the thrill that ran through her when she remembered certain things. Giving her voice a seductive tone, she said: “I kept Rita Skeeter in a jar forever.”

“You didn’t!”

“I led Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest where I left her with angry centaurs. You know what centaurs do to human women.”

Dolohov blinked several times. He took another step forward: “I thought you were a Gryffindor.”

Her smile grew wicked: “Actually, the hat had a hard time deciding where I should go. Ravenclaw would have been an option. And let me tell you, there’s nearly nothing a Ravenclaw wouldn’t do to gain knowledge. I’m the same. But on top of that, there’s almost nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my friends. If it means to do horrible things, so be it. If you’re worth it, you’re worth it.”

“Fuck,” came the low whisper from Dolohov, “Hermione, you have no idea what your words mean to me. What they do to me.”

Only she had a rather good idea what she did to him. She could hear that his breath was laboured, she could see he was shaking. She could hear that his voice was darker than usual. Hoarse.

Above all, she felt the heat spreading in her own body.

“You should run now, little fox.”

The heat intensified. Antonin wanted to capture her, but not just to win this game. If she let him, he would devour her and Hermione couldn’t see a reason why she shouldn’t let him. But it was too early. She wanted to see what the other men got before deciding who actually got to capture her.

Yes, she had decided that in the end, it was up to her who would capture her and claim his price. Because if she wanted to, she could get herself out of any sticky situation.

“Would there be a way to persuade you to let me go?”

Antonin eyed her cautiously: “Maybe. Depends.”

Certain of her victory, Hermione pulled her top over her head, revealing her naked chest. Her breasts shimmered silver in the moonlight, while she traced the outline of her own body with her hands: “What do you think?”

“You’re supposed to be innocent,” Dolohov growled, “Granger, what are you doing?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow: “Didn’t we just talk about my past wrong-doings? What exactly is so innocent about me?”

He took a step forward, but instantly Hermione retreated, holding up her hand: “No, nothing of that. If you want to catch me now, you’ll have to fight for it. But if you’re interested in something else … and if you were to agree to letting me go afterwards … we could come to a deal.”

Playfully, she let her hands roam her own body once more, sliding over her breast, her stomach, down to her hips and back up into her hair again. There was something about this magical night that made her confident in her own body. She just knew she looked good, just as she knew that the huge man in front of her was aroused just watching her from afar.

“State your terms,” Dolohov said with gritted teeth. She could see he had a hard time keeping his distance.

“One kiss,” she suggested, “and you’ll let me go afterwards. You wait here for five minutes before you try to follow me.”

“Deal,” he breathed and in the same moment he closed the gap between them, pulling her in his arms.

His lips came crashing down on her, without hesitation, without giving her time to protest. He backed her against the wall, his full body pressed against her, his hands groping her exposed breasts. A moan escaped Hermione’s lips and eagerly she pressed her hips against his. His mouth was demanding, forcing entrance into her mouth, plundering her with his tongue, but she loved it. As careful as he had been before, he now was almost violent in the way he took her.

One of his hands let go of her breasts to roam down her back until it reached her bottom. He kneaded her butt cheeks, quickly bringing down the second hand too, before lifting her up to grind his hips into hers. She moaned again, meeting his movements. Heat spread from her centre through her whole body and she wrapped her legs around him, forgetting that this was supposed to only be a kiss. She wanted more. She needed more. The feeling of his muscular chest, his strong arm, the way his erection pressed against her.

Only when one of his hands wandered further down, ghosting against her folds, Hermione’s brain awakened again. Pushing away from Antonin, she whispered: “I think that’s enough of a kiss, don’t you agree?”

He didn’t let go of her: “No. Things just got interesting. Forget the deal, forget this stupid game.”

She chuckled at his greedy voice: “Come on, Dolohov, I said no.”

Huffing and obviously unhappy, he put her back down: “Way to ruin the mood. What’s your problem, Granger, you seemed to enjoy yourself.”

She grinned back at him while slipping into her top: “I did, very much so. But the night is long and I really want to play this game. Let’s say if you catch me again, I’ll grant you one wish, okay?”

“One wish?”

She gave her grin a seductive note: “One wish. Anything you wish, I’ll do. Anything.”

Both his hands came down on the wall beside her head. He wasn’t smiling when he leaned down to bring his lips next to her ear: “Be careful how you word your promises, little fox. You said anything and you’ll do well to remember that. Anything.”

A shiver of anticipation ran through Hermione. She wasn’t actually afraid he’d do anything to her that she wouldn’t agree to, but just his threatening words, his dark voice made her knees weak. With another deep breath, she ducked from under his arms: “Anything, I promise. Now, five minutes before you move from here. Don’t forget that.”

Antonin’s eyes glittered in the silver moonlight while he watched her descend the stairs. Just when she reached the end, he shouted after her: “Until we meet again, little fox.”

She waved back at him before slowly sneaking out the library door. Now that her safe spot in the library was no longer an option, she would need to find a new hiding place before running into another hunter. The thrill of the suddenly more demanding task sent shivers down her spine. She was more than ready for the next round.


	3. Chapter 3

Quickly, Hermione crouched down. She had survived for an hour now without being spotted by any of the men in the manor, she would not fall now. Here, hiding between the many, many round tables in the ball room, anyone would have a hard time finding her, but she still needed to be careful. She had seen the large figure of Thorfinn Rowle enter just a few minutes ago. The moon shone silver through the massive glass front at the far end of the ball room, so it was surprisingly bright even now in the deep of the night.

With bated breath, Hermione listened to the soft footstep the giant wizard made while he slowly walked across the room. She did not dare to raise her head to peak over the tables, so all she could do was listen. The ball room was huge, but half of it was covered with round tables for the ball Lucius Malfoy would be holding tomorrow evening. Thorfinn would not be able to spot her if she paid close attention to where he was.

The door at the other end of the ball room creaked open. Cursing, Hermione realised that now two wizards were in here with her. She could not see who it was, she did not even know whether the other wizard left as soon as he spotted Rowle already on the hunt, but she had to assume whoever it was would stay.

Her heart hammered in her chest while she tried to calm her breath. Suddenly, it sounded so loud in her own ears that she was sure the other men would hear it, too.

A quick movement to her right nearly made her shriek. Did Thorfinn know she was hiding here? Why else would he suddenly sprint across the room towards all the tables? Desperately Hermione crawled towards the huge main doors, still ducking under the tables. She had to get out of here. It had been a stupid idea to come here in the first place.

A big hand grabbed her left ankle. Yelling out in shock, she kicked at her captor before she knew what she was doing, effectively removing his hand.

“Bloody hell, Granger,” Thorfinn wailed. “What was that for? It’s just me.”

“Sorry!” Hermione shouted, but she didn’t wait for him to recover. Using his distraction, she sprang up and wiggled through the tables, trying to reach the door before he could catch up.

But obviously she was out of luck, because just as she thought she would make it, two big arms closed around her and pressed her back against a massive chest.

“Looks like I caught myself a vixen,” Thorfinn whispered into her ear.

Deciding she would use the same tactic as with Dolohov, Hermione did not resist and instead let her head fall back against him. “Looks like it. What will you do to the poor little vixen?”

“I have a few things in mind,” he growled while slowly stepping backwards until he bumped into a chair. He sat down and quickly pulled her into his lap. “Depends on what the little vixen is willing to let me do to her.”

The way his arms trapped her against his broad frame and the low rumbling when he talked sent shivers down Hermione’s spine. Tentatively, she rolled her hips against him. A deep, strained groan was her answer.

“Seems like this vixen wants to play,” Rowle murmured, “I’m down for that.”

Again, she pressed her barely covered behind against his sensitive parts, while explaining: “Then let’s make a deal. You get to play with the vixen and after that, you let her go.”

He chuckled deeply: “And why would I do that? I can win the hunt right now.”

Hoping that she had read his actions correctly, Hermione turned her head to look him directly in the eyes: “If you don’t, you’ll never get a taste of this vixen.”

“Ah, we can’t have that,” Thorfinn agreed, his hands sliding up and down her body. “It would be a shame to let this opportunity pass.”

“Deal?”

Instead of an answer, he simply lifted her up and turned her around, so she could straddle his lap facing towards him. He cupped her cheeks and brought his face down to hers: “I hope you know what you’ve bargained for. I’m not known to be a gentle lover.”

Heat spread across Hermione’s body. Just as he said those words, she realised that that was exactly what she had been hoping for. Not willing to wait any longer, she grabbed the long blond hair of this giant man and smashed her lips on his.

A low growl was her answer. Suddenly, his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. One second they roamed her back, the next she felt him kneading her breasts. She inhaled sharply when without asking, he removed her top and bent down to lick her erect nipples. Writhing on his lap, Hermione let her eyes shutter close and her head fall back. Little bolts of electricity shot through her, only furthering the heat that already spread through her whole body.

Breathing heavily, Thorfinn looked her deep into the eyes: “What are you willing to give?”

The way she could feel his erection press against her mid-section, Hermione knew only too well what he was asking. Her thoughts were clouded by lust and she would have liked nothing more than to give into him completely here and now. Pressing her head against his broad shoulders, she tried to calm herself down. With his hands still roaming her body and her hips seemingly moving on their own volition, that was not an easy task.

“Anything you want,” Hermione finally managed to whisper, “anything … except …”

Thorfinn nodded in understanding when she failed to speak what was on her mind. As though she weighted not more than a feather, he lifted her from his lap. A wide smirk on his face, he suggested: “You know, I always did wonder whether you could only talk big … or do you actually have a big mouth, too?”

Looking down at the sitting man, Hermione blushed furiously. She understood perfectly well what he was insinuating, but she did not know how to deliver on it. After all, she had never given a blowjob before. Wetting her lips, she went down on her knees. Trying to give herself some courage, she answered: “I’m pretty sure I can handle you.”

His deep, rumbling laughter sent hot shivers down to her core. This man was pure sex. Smoothing her palms up his thighs, she started to unbutton his pants. She felt him tense up under her touch, a signal that as playful as he pretended to be, he too was not unaffected from this. Gaining courage, Hermione freed his hard member.

Words failed her.

There was no way in hell she would be able to fit him into her mouth. Worried, she looked up to him.

Sensing her insecurity, Rowle placed one hand on her cheek: “Relax, Granger. Just … open your mouth. Open up as wide as you can. It’ll fit just fine.”

Still unsure of what to do, Hermione closed one hand around him, starting to pump up and down with a little pressure. Thorfinn’s hand grabbed her hair, but he did not force any movement from her. Instead, his other hand closed around hers, guiding her into a speed that he liked. A strained groan escaped him, vibrating through her body. She wanted to do this. She wanted to pleasure this man. With increasing courage, she moved further between his legs, forcing him to spread them wide so she could fit in between.

Again she licked her lips. Nervously, she flicked her tongue over the tip of his cock. A deep inhale was the answer. Again she licked just the head, and felt his fingers tighten the grip on her hair. Curious, she glanced up at him, catching him staring down at her with an intense expression that tugged on her heart. Heat spread through her whole body. Without breaking the eye contact, she lowered her mouth upon him, slowly taking him in. A deep growl vibrated through his body and sent shivers down her spine.

Relaxing her throat as best as she could, Hermione tried swallowing more of his huge cock. He was hot and hard and tasted like nothing she ever knew. Remembering what this was all about, she started bobbing her head up and down, hollowing her cheeks, and letting him glide over her tongue. When she found a rhythm that suited her, she started to move her hand up and down his length at the same time.

“Fuck, Granger,” Rowle swore, “is there anything you can’t do?”

She simply hummed as reply, earning her another deep groan from the wizard. His grip tightened again and suddenly, he took control of her head. Holding her still with his hands, he started rocking his hips, pumping his cock into her wide open mouth. Hermione’s hands grabbed his thighs, digging her fingernails into his exposed flesh. He hurt her with his thrusts, but it was a good kind of hurt. Saliva ran down her chin and every now and again, she chocked a bit when he drove too far into her, but she did not care. Her pussy throbbed and she could feel wetness trickle down her thighs.

Suddenly, he pulled hard on her hair, making her cry out in pain. He slid out of her mouth, instantly replacing it with one of his own hands, while the other forced her head back. Hermione realised how quick his breath was coming now, how his whole body was tense, while his hand moved vigorously up and down his length. Closing her eyes and opening her mouth further, she let him take control. His groans shot little bolts of electricity through her body, while the hand that was fisted in her hair pulled almost painfully on her head.

With one last, loud growl, Rowle came. Drops of hot liquid fell on her face, on her exposed chest and the tongue she had instinctively stuck out. When he finally was spent, she opened her eyes to look at him. His eyes still glittered with the heat of the moment. Wicked triumph made Hermione’s blood pump hotly through her veins, and without looking away, she suggestively licked her lips.

“Fucking hell,” was all Rowle could say to that, finally letting go of her hair.

Slowly, Hermione got up from her crouched position. Now that the heat and arousal started to fizzle out, she noticed how much her legs and knees hurt. That definitely was not a position she should attempt in the future. What was more, her mouth and throat felt a bit bruised.

“Sorry about that, love,” Thorfinn said sheepishly when she rubbed her hands around her neck. “I suppose I was a bit rough there.”

“Well, you did tell me you’re not a gentle lover, so it was expected,” Hermione replied, wincing a little trying to articulate words with her strained mouth.

“Come here,” he purred and simply lifted her up on his lap.

Wary, Hermione stiffened in his embrace. He promised to let her go once she did him a favour. She really hoped he was a man of his word.

In a surprisingly gentle gesture, Rowle produced a tissue and cleaned up her face. Her eyes fell close on their own, and with a contented purr, she leaned into his touch. She would have never expected this giant of a wizard to have a caring, soft side, but the way he touched her now, held her against him while cautiously rubbing her face, was just too sweet.

“If you keep purring like that, I might have to break the rules and simply kidnap you,” Thorfinn stated, his voice nothing more than a whisper against her neck.

Goosebumps spread across Hermione’s body, but she was determined not to give into the temptation. Instead, she stood up, grabbed her top and put it back on. Looking down at the still sitting wizard – who actually was not that much beneath her eyelevel even though he was sitting and she was standing – she cocked a wide grin: “You might find that it’s rather difficult to kidnap me, Rowle.”

With that, she turned around and, swaying her hips pointedly, simply walked out of the grand hall, not looking back even once.


End file.
